


Joy

by lennongirl



Series: World Cup 2006 [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Football | Soccer, M/M, POV Second Person, World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennongirl/pseuds/lennongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Ecuador match, Michael Ballack reflects on what the World Cup gave him so far. It's more than could be said with words - it's pure joy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the World Cup 2006, after Germany's third match (against Ecuador) and some time before.
> 
> Written in July 2006.

“I told you. I fucking told you!” Miro’s voice echoes from the walls of the showers, loud and strong and cheerful, and in the next moment, your ears are filled with the sound of Lukas yelling “Yes! Yes! YES!”, making your head spin. You laugh along with everybody else; you join the others pretending to hide from Lukas who is splashing around under his shower, trying to soak all of you, which is pretty pointless since you’re all wet anyway. 

You did it. All of you did it: won three matches, won the group, scored eight times in total. Not you, but that’s not important right now. What is important is this: seeing so much joy and happiness unfolding in front of your eyes, hearing laughter and the sound of a palm smacking a wet backside in playful teasing. Seeing Miro smile and hearing Lukas howl and watching Bastian observe the scene in mild amusement. It’s a relief, knowing things are easy again.

You know Miro had trouble dealing with the responsibility he felt for Lukas, he and Torsten had a talk about it, and in the end, Torsten told you during a short training break some days ago. But that’s all in the past now, Lukas did his thing, and as you watch him cling to Bastian to keep his balance because jumping really isn’t a good idea on a wet shower floor (you think he really should be more careful, he might slip and injure himself), you smile and envy them a bit for what’s ahead of them. You know what it’s like, having been there yourself, always together, always close. But you also remember the constant nagging of what might be, could be, if only maybe, just like back then, this first tentative try, but in the end nothing happened, nothing was really solved and you parted ways eventually. 

Until now. 

You know that being together all the time sometimes doesn’t work out the way you want it to, and you’ve more than just once thought about maybe talking to Lukas and Bastian about it, but you never do, since they have the right to make their own experiences – and learn from their own mistakes. 

You look up and catch Torsten’s eye. He’s shaking his head slightly at you. Yeah, he’s right, this really isn’t the time to ponder and contemplate, not when you have a victory to celebrate and a dozen naked guys around you, trying their best to beat each other’s silliness. 

It’s the time to be happy, to feel and share the joy, and if you’re completely honest with yourself, you haven’t really felt anything else, since the night after the Poland match.

 

***

 

It was just like you’d expected, you woke up the morning after and he was gone. But it didn’t confuse you, not right away. 

You knew you had a rather relaxing day ahead, some light training, maybe some PR stuff, and also some time off. You got ready and joined the others for breakfast; he was already there, waiting for you. That’s what you told yourself at least. 

You smiled and ate and listened to the chatter around you, trying to catch little pieces of conversation here and there.

“You okay?” he eventually asked and you nodded, giving him a grin that told him you were more than just okay.

Jürgen arrived at some point, joining you and giving you his very own version of what might be considered a “Hm, okay, maybe you had some right ideas, after all”-speech. You couldn’t help but feel a bit smug inside.

“The point is we’re onto something here, and I want the two of you together at a press conference some time this week. Saturday maybe?” Jürgen finished.

“Sunday,” you quickly answered, just for the sake of saying something. Something different, maybe. 

“Okay then.” Jürgen nodded and left you.

“You can be awfully bossy,” Torsten mumbled from the other side of the table, and you weighed your head.

“I know you love it, that’s why,” you then said teasingly, eyebrow raised and all, and Torsten laughed, so sudden and loud several heads turned your way. 

 

You had no chance of having some kind of serious talk with him until later the next evening, just as the night set in. You needed at least a little bit of – confirmation maybe, because as nice as all the laughter and joking was, you had no intention of making the same mistake twice. So you went looking for him in the garden and found him in one of the huge, strange, wicker chairs, reading some kind of a note. 

You didn’t ask for permission to join him, you simply sat down next to him, which made him give you some more room by shifting his legs and putting the note into his pocket. 

“So,” he began, “how can I entertain my bossy Captain tonight?”

“Some singing would be nice. I’d be in the mood for something relaxing, something smooth.”

“Shall I also dance?”

“Nah, not necessary. Hearing you sing will be scary enough, I don’t know if I could take much more.” 

He kicked you softly in your side and you both fell silent for a few moments. 

“You want to talk about it,” he eventually said. 

“Yes.”

“I don’t really think it’s necessary.”

And there it was, the moment of doubt, and he probably saw your frown, because he laid a hand on your arm and made you look at him.

“Micha. What I mean is, this was just a question of time. We probably should’ve talked about it back then, I know I surely could’ve needed it. We were both stupid and too stubborn to deal with it, but you know it’s different now. I can’t think of anything I could tell you that you don’t already know.” 

He squeezed your arm and you let his little speech sink in. It was the first time ever he made a reference to what happened back then, and he was right, things are different now, you’re different now, and he is, too, otherwise he surely wouldn’t have mentioned it to begin with.

“Come on,” is all you said before you got up, him following you. 

 

You went back to your room, almost sneaking inside, making it feel like a big mysterious adventure. Once you were both inside, you looked at him and tried to compare the mood with the one from two nights before. It was all the same yet very different. You still felt anticipation and something else, tension probably, lust maybe, but you knew you weren’t alone with these feelings anymore. 

You watched him kick his shoes off, you gave him a few moments to aimlessly wander around in the room, and seeing and feeling that he too was nervous even though he didn’t admit it, made you feel a bit relieved. At the same time, you wondered if his little speech from earlier had maybe taken away his strength and ability to deal with this whole thing. 

You also wondered if he’d deal with this – whatever it was – later, maybe the next day or the one after that or next week – you knew Torsten would need a better closure as well as you yourself did. But if he needed more time and just _this_ for the moment, well, you were okay with that, too.

You walked over and hugged him.

“It’s alright,” you said, “we’re good.”

“Yeah,” he whispered back and then, just like that, you were kissing again and you knew that’s what you’d been waiting for all day long.

He sighed against your lips, letting you know you weren’t the only one longing, and you guided the two of you towards the bed. You tried to be patient and careful but dear God, deep inside, you were just starting to burn again. You let your hands wander all over his body, making as much contact as possible and when you felt him relaxing, you withdrew for a moment, tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

‘All yours’, is what you think his body told you and you were so eager to take it, if he’d let you. You weren’t sure, you didn’t know how to ask, you just wanted him so much it almost hurt. You fought your very own battle somewhere between your groin and head, thinking about talking, explaining, saying something. 

“I want you,” is what you finally said, not even thinking about it until the words had left your mouth already. It made him inhale deeply and you held your own breath for a moment – had you just crossed a line you shouldn’t have? But then you felt his fingers start digging into your arse again, as if they’d never stopped doing so since two nights ago, and you thought that yes, he was right, sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to talk about certain things. 

 

You’d made good use of your free time and were prepared for whatever was to come. Well, you were prepared as far as the technical aspects of it all were concerned. The emotional, the sensual part, nothing could’ve prepared you for _that_.

You tried to remember what to do all at once, yet you forgot everything you ever knew. You were torn between the desire of just taking him, reaching an instant state of utter satisfaction, and the wish of giving him as much pleasure as possible. You had to make both work, somehow.

But it wasn’t that easy. You knew the body underneath yours wasn’t used to surrendering, maybe never had, not like this. It made you feel both special and a bit intimidated, but you also knew this was Torsten, your Torsten, and you couldn’t really fuck it up all that badly, could you?

Were you shaking when you eventually started preparing him? Did your hand tremble when you stretched him, slowly, almost languidly? Did your voice break when you whispered random words into the warm air surrounding you, making it hum with promises of what was ahead? You don’t remember any of it, for your fingers were moving _inside of him_ and he relaxed, he was okay with it; and you had to blink to somehow see the beauty of it all. 

You heard a hiss coming from him, a noise full of urgency and anticipation. 

Okay then.

There was a condom lying right next to you on the mattress. Tearing the wrapper open wasn’t that much of a problem, however, rolling the damn thing onto your cock was. _Now_ your hands were definitely trembling, and which way was this supposed to work anyway? It had been ages since you’d used one of these, and although you’d been quite the pro back then (single handed, no problem), you found your fingers suddenly not being able to cover yourself with the latex. Your worries about the whole situation were forgotten, replaced by a mild annoyance, because you, Michael Ballack, were about to do something you’d been secretly wishing to do for years and now the moment was near, you started acting like a 12 year old in a sexual education class. This was ridiculous. You cursed silently and bit your lower lip to stop more swearing from leaving your mouth.

“Need help?” 

You just sighed and shrugged silently and he understood. His hands were calm and fast, and for a fleeting moment you wondered if this was maybe the way it was supposed to be, him guiding you, not the other way around. But then he was done and leant back, looking at you expectantly, and “yes” was the only word left in your mind.

You guided his thighs onto your shoulders and moved your hips – and that’s when he touched your arm.

“Micha, you should just know that I’ve – never.”

_Never._

It made sense, perfect sense, and you nodded to let him know you understood, he closed his eyes slowly and you continued. Just a bit at first. Just the tip of your cock, probing, trying to get a feel for it.

But it was painful for you to watch him, forehead frowned, mouth slightly opened to let out small pants. It made you feel like an intruder, which you surely were, but you didn’t want to be, not in this way. You called out for him, you wanted, you needed this connection to make it all the better for the both of you.

“Torsten,” you said again, your voice dark and husky, and he finally looked up at you.

“Let’s make this work,” you added and when you saw a little smile on his lips, you knew you could make it work well – together.

You pushed into him further, and the tightness enveloping you made you gasp. You moved some more until he clamped down a bit, making you pause and allowing you to catch your breath.

You were inside him. He was all around you. He was everywhere.

You stroked his thigh and he relaxed gradually, giving you some more room, which you gladly accepted. Once you were fully sheathed, you stopped again just to make as much of this moment as possible. You really were – there. You looked at him, your weight resting on your arms, and grinned. Everybody else would’ve probably called you a fool, but you knew, you felt Torsten would relate.

“Wow,” is what he said, smirking back at you, and yes, this was pretty much perfect.

And then: “Finally.” It was only a whisper, and you weren’t even sure if he _really_ said it, but you saw his lips move, so it must’ve been true.

Finally.

You exhaled deeply and started moving, you didn’t care about possible pain anymore because now you knew this was it, this was what you needed, what the both of you needed. It was, in a way, a long overdue closure, an act not only of passion and pure primal instincts, but also your very own way of showing him what you’d never been able to tell him. And judging from his comment and his complete lack of resistance now, the same was true for him, too. 

You found a good, fast rhythm, one that raised the room temperature by several notches at least. A thick drip of sweat fell from the tip of your nose and landed on Torsten’s forehead, finding a random strand of hair sprawled out there and following its trail, making the hair stick to his skin like a pattern of lustful art. 

Torsten shifted underneath you, making you enter him deeper than before. You thought it was an accidental move at first, but then you felt his fingers kneading your backside again (you couldn’t get enough of that anymore), urging you on, and you moaned and let loose and just fucked him, damn it.

You quickly worked yourself up into a state of ecstasy. You changed your angle to thrust into him slightly differently, to hit that spot you knew was to be found somewhere and there – Torsten made a sound you’d never heard before, and he clamped down on you again, not out of pain but pure pleasure. It made you growl, it made you grind your teeth, it made you want to tell him that he was yours, that you were his, that you were one and that this was just how things were supposed to be. Maybe you did tell him after all, you weren’t sure. You were sure, however, that he knew it all already anyway. 

You looked down to watch yourself enter him again and again. It was so beautiful, so right, and in that moment, you didn’t really want to see or do anything else for the rest of your life. You just kept on staring until Torsten’s cock distracted you, because how could you not pay attention? So you shifted your weight until you rested on one arm, reached between the two of you to grab and stroke him and somehow, he was now inside you just as you were inside of him and yes, _this_ was perfect.

Torsten came first, you kept on stroking him all the way through his orgasm, you never wanted it to end. But then your own climax hit you, fast and powerful, and suddenly, your arm refused to work and you collapsed on top if him with a smacking sound of two sweaty bodies meeting each other.

He was stroking your back, and your face was close to his ear. You wanted to say something, something significant maybe, or something witty to ease the tension. But there wasn’t really any need for that, and while you were still pondering what to do, he said “I” and fell silent again and you simply answered “me too”, and he hugged you, hard, and you couldn’t have been any happier. 

 

***

 

Days went by in a blur, there was training and free time and that press conference and somehow, there was always somebody around or something to do. Ecuador came almost too fast, how could days fly by just like that? 

And so you’re here, now, in the warm summer night’s air, enjoying a cool drink and music. You’re surrounded by so many people you love and cherish and adore, and you really can’t think of a better time or place to be right now. 

Simone lets her hand slip into yours and as you turn towards her, your gaze catches Torsten and Petra standing nearby.

So maybe there are things left to think about, some day, in some strange place called reality. But as long as you’re here, as long as it’s World Cup, you can’t bring yourself to feel anything else but _this is the way it’s supposed to be_. 

You watch Jens laugh into his mobile phone. You catch his last comment: “If you think so, Freddie,” and you decide that you’re not the tiniest bit scared or worried about what’s ahead. 

All that matters right now is this, and it’s pure joy. 

~END~


End file.
